


Reunion

by cmk418



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-02
Updated: 2010-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28004223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmk418/pseuds/cmk418
Summary: Dawn's back in London on a vacation from college
Relationships: Willow Rosenberg/Dawn Summers, past Willow Rosenberg/Tara Maclay
Kudos: 2





	Reunion

It’s been a while since it’s happened: seeing her around every corner. You needed to cross the globe more than once to be able to escape the feeling that sometime, somehow, she was going to make her way back to you.

That’s why this moment sneaks up on you. You glance up from the window of the café, see a young woman, same height, same hair coloring, even the same jacket that Tara always wore. You cannot help it, you’re on your feet, running through the door, and reaching for this woman before common sense can pull you from it.

She turns with the touch of your hand on her arm. Smiling widely, she seems both surprised and delighted to see you.

 _Dawn._

You heard she was coming back over winter break. It has been years since you’ve seen her and she looks good, better than good even. It occurs to you to tell her that, but what comes out of your mouth instead is a question. “Why are you wearing Tara’s jacket?”

She looks down at the sleeve of the arm that you’re still holding. It’s as if she’s just registering what she has on. “Oh… sorry. It’s funny. I’ve been wearing my blue jacket all month at school, but when I was packing for vacation, I found this in my closet.”

“But how?”

“It was with the things that I packed for our amazing adventure out of Sunnydale. I’d planned on giving it to you. Do you want it?”

“No. Keep it. It looks good. You look good.”

She smiles again and you wonder how closely her first year of college paralleled yours. You think of Dawn learning things that couldn’t be taught in a classroom, linger on the imagery for a moment, and-

“Willow?”

_Sweet Hespera, get your mind from the bad place. This is Dawnie, damn it. Sweet, young nubile Dawnie. You had that year when you practically raised her, remember? Does she still like pancakes for breakfast? You’ve become quite adept at making them._

“Pancakes,” you blurt out because your tongue still has a way of jumping out in front of your mind.

“Oh-kay,” she says, drawing the word out like she used to. And it’s like nothing has changed. _Except that she’s more grown up, entirely capable of taking the world by storm and making her own pancakes if she wants them. Yes. That’s it. She can make her own pan-_

“Willow?”

“Tea!” _Damn it! You’re doing it again._ “At my place. I have tea. If you want.”

“Sure. We can catch up.”

The two of you go back to your apartment – despite being in London for a few years, you still can’t bring yourself to call it a flat.

There’s a streak of orange that moves across the floor as you enter. Dawn puts a hand on your arm. You don’t bother to move away immediately. “What’s that?” she asks.

“Julius. My cat.”

“Cute name. Very fitting. Have you had him long?”

You walk into the kitchen and start a kettle of water brewing. “About two years. Ever since I decided to stay.”

“It’s just the one?”

“Just my baby.” You pause to reassure her, “Don’t worry. I haven’t turned into the crazed-cat lady yet.”

“Good to know,” Dawn says and then mumbles something under her breath that you don’t quite catch, but you’d swear one of the words was “competition.”

The tea kettle whistles and you pour a cup for each of you. You sit side by side on the sofa, drinking tea and making small talk.

Dawn leans closer to set her cup down on the coffee table. You move as close to the arm of the sofa as possible, feeling it pressed against your side.

“You worried about getting pounced on?” she asks.

“Julius is very docile,” you say.

The curtain of her hair hides her face for a moment, then she looks at you dead on and says, “I wasn’t talking about the cat.”

In the morning, you’ll discover where the teacup landed when you dropped it.

Right after you make pancakes, that is.


End file.
